Demons
by stress
Summary: Have you ever been lost in a different world? [rated for violent themes] Rafe Edwards is a thief and gang leader eager to try his luck out at going straight. But what happens when his newfound loyalties are questionable? Or he falls for the wrong girl?
1. I ENTER RAFE

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

**--**

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**I. ENTER RAFE**  
_Have you ever been lost in a different world  
where everything you once knew is gone?_

Carelessly tossing a two inch blade from one hand to the next, eighteen year old Ralph Edwards sat on his crate, preoccupied. His jet black hair flopping in his hazel eyes as he kept his head down, he only looked up when he heard cautious footsteps approaching. "What you got for me, Dice?"

Dice lifted the brim of his faded black derby and watched the motion of the blade. "Not much, Rafe. Only was able to get a few nickels today," he replied as he handed over the loose change he held in one hand. The other hand, however, stayed ever moving as he jingled a pair of dice, nervously.

Rafe palmed the blade as he held out his right hand, accepting the change from the younger boy. "Twenty-six cents? That's all, Dicey? You sure?"

Dice nodded quickly – too quickly. "Yeah, boss. It's been slim pickings lately. Ever since that whole newsies strike thing, it's been kind of hard to steal money off of people who ain't got none."

"You got a point there, Dice," Rafe replied thoughtfully before pulling himself up off of his crate. "You got a point."

Dice, slightly reassured, smiled. "Yeah. If only those kids hadn't screwed up last summer, we could get back to running our business."

Rafe looked down at Dice. "But, do we want to go back to running our business?" he asked as he slipped his blade into the back pocket of his black breeches, before, subconsciously, beginning to rub the three inch scar on the palm of his left hand.

Dice watched Rafe's hand move slowly across his flesh and grimaced. He remembered the fight that caused that scar – the fight that claimed Quick's life.

_It had happened in an abandoned warehouse in Midtown. A territory squabble between the Marks and the Sharps had gotten out of hand. The result: a meeting between the heads of both gangs._

_Quick, the leader of the Sharps, had just arrived, with Rafe at his side as his second. Smyth was there for the Marks, as well as Deuce. The four boys met at the table in the middle of the building, and, almost immediately, began arguing over who had claim over all of the boroughs of New York._

_"We get Manhattan and Brooklyn," claimed Quick._

_Smyth shook his head. "I want Brooklyn."_

_"Nothing doing, Smythy._ _You already got Queens and the Bronx," replied Quick indignantly. Brooklyn and Manhattan had been Sharp territory ever since Quick had started pick pocketing when he was seven._

_"Listen, Quick. Me and Deuce here agreed to this silly little meeting, but if I don't get what I want, I'm done. Are you going to let the Marks have Brooklyn or not?"_

_"No."_

_"Very well, Quick," Smyth answered before nodding to Deuce. Deuce, to the surprise of both Quick and Rafe, inserted two of his fingers into his mouth and let out a short, piercing whistle._

_With a smirk, Rafe looked across the table at Deuce. "What was that, Deuce? Practicing for Irving Hall?" When his remark failed to garner a laugh from his partner, Rafe looked at Quick. Then, when he saw that Quick had turned around to face the entrance of the warehouse, Rafe did the same but, when he saw what was waiting for them there, he gulped. "Shit."_

_Quick spun back around and glared at Smyth. "What's the deal, Smyth? I thought we agreed it would just be the four of us? And now I see that you brought all of your cronies with you. What the hell is going on?"_

_Smyth just waved his hand as if to brush aside Quick's comments. "I'm tired of cooperating with the Sharps. We're going to take all of New York – today."_

_Rafe, anger coursing through his slim frame, knocked the card table on it's side and lunged towards Deuce, his hands outstretched as if to push the other boy away._

_Deuce, however, was faster than his counterpart and, before Rafe knew it, had his knife out ready to meet Rafe's hands. Before Rafe could steady himself and pulls his arms back he felt the shock of the blade cutting into the fleshy pulp of his left palm. _

_The pain was enough to cause him to pause in his attempted strike. He yanked his hand back and jumped away from Deuce's crimson-stained blade. "Damn you," he swore bitterly before jamming his hand against his brown button down shirt, blood covering it almost instantaneously._

_Deuce smiled wickedly as he raised the blade up and began advancing towards Rafe. Rafe, not wanting to be stabbed again, backed away in time to the bigger boy's steps. But, before he could make any sort of clearance between himself and his adversary, he saw Quick, surrounded by a group of four Marks – Smyth and three others – get struck and go down just off to his right side. "Quick," he cried, turning his head and leaving an opening for Deuce to strike._

_But the Mark boy did not. Instead, all fighting ceased as, on Smyth's signal, Deuce let out a whistle, softer than the one before but no less piercing, which caused all the Marks present to scatter and exit the warehouse. Smyth, however, paused just as he was leaving the room. "And that is the end of the Sharps," he sneered before spitting on the ground._

_Rafe_ _fought with himself for a moment: should he go after the Marks and deal with them or stay back with Quick? Quick's wheezing and moaning on the dirt floor of the warehouse answered the question for him. Kneeling beside his friend, he whispered, "Boss, are you alright?"_

_"Rafe?_ _Is that you?"_

_"Yeah._ _Where did they get ya, Quick?"_

_As slowly as he could, Quick rolled over. When Rafe saw the blossoming blood stain on his upper left side, he knew Quick would be gone in moments._

_Quick also knew that he was dying. "Listen here, Rafe. They got us. Those lousy stinking Marks got us," he whispered venomously before breaking into a fit of coughing that left a stream of blood dribbling out the side of his mouth. But, even so, he continued. "But that ain't important now. What's important is that you swear that you'll get them back for me. That you don't let them get away with this."_

_"But how can I do that without you, boss?" Rafe asked, trying not to notice the eerie air of stillness that surrounded his fallen comrade._

_"You will be the new boss, Rafe. I know you can do it, kid. Alri—" Quick never finished that sentence. Instead he just shut his eyes and let his head loll to the side. He was gone._

_Rafe_ _stood there, covered in both his own blood and that of Quick's, for so long it felt that time had stood still for the young man. It wasn't until the cut on his palm had finally stopped bleeding that he stood up and made a decision. Smyth was right – the Sharps were done; the death of Quick meant that. But a new gang, Rafe's gang, __the_ Wraiths. _They would make the Marks pay._

Pushing aside the memories, Rafe stopped fidgeting with his scar and carelessly kicked his crate to the side. "I think I got an idea, Dice. How would you like to keep an eye on the gang for me for a little bit?"

Dice looked interested but said nothing for a few minutes. Then, "Are you sure, boss? Me, in charge?"

"Sure. You've been at it as long as I have and the boys all respect ya."

"Ya think so?"

"Yeah," Rafe replied and winked. "I'll think you'll do a good job running the _Wraiths_."

"Yeah," Dice answered, a wistful quality in his voice. After all, he had wanted the job when Quick was killed and was a little upset when it had gone to Rafe. But, why, after only a few months, was Rafe backing out? "What are you gonna do, Rafe?" he questioned, expecting some sort of catch.

Rafe laughed haughtily at Dice's cautious tone. "Don't you worry there, Dicey. I figure I'll just take some time to get back out on the street. I feel like I've been holed up in this ghetto for ever just waiting for you guys to split your takings. I'm tired of being the boss. I want to be working out there."

Dice nodded though he did not understand. There were not any of the boys who would not give up their stealing to be able to sit on the boss' crate all day and be handed money. But, who was he to question Rafe?

"Good, then it's settled. Now, listen, Dice. I'm leaving, leaving now, but you ain't to tell no one what just happened here. If any of the boys' want to know what happened, shut him up. If that don't work, get rid of him, alright? You understand?"

Dice nodded again, as confused as he was moments ago. "Why don't you want the boys' knowing you left?"

"I got my reasons, Dicey. Now, before I go, I got two more things to tell ya. One, don't expect me to report in and split my takings. I may be gone for a little bit of time, but Quick still put me in charge. And, two, don't get too cozy on my crate. I will be back, alright? Just give me a week or two to get my head straight," he finished, slowly rubbing the scar on his hand once more before reaching under the crate. He pulled his dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and set it on the floor. With Dice's questioning gaze on him, he began to place a few of his belongings – mainly coins and a few trinkets – inside of it.

"Sure thing, boss. I know my place," Dice answered before helping Rafe tie the cloth into a knot, making it easier for him to carry it.

Then, with a smirk and a slight wave, Rafe ducked out of the small room and was gone. Dice waited a second before pulling a handful of pennies from his pocket and, plopping himself down on the crate, beginning to count the money that he had hidden from Rafe.

--

"'Corpse seen taken out of the Mayor's house'! Just a penny a pape to read all about it."

Rafe turned his head towards the young boy standing at the corner. "Really?" he smirked before continuing down the crowded Manhattan streets.

Taking in the sights and smells surrounding him, Rafe smiled at himself as he thought about his plans for the next few days. As it was still unnaturally warm for a day in late September, it would be perfectly reasonable for him to spend a night tucked away, outside. He did, however, grab a bit of money with him before he left Dice, so he could also afford to find lodging.

The only problem lied in where he would find such a place. But, before he could contemplate that consideration any further, a snippet from a neighboring conversation caught his ear and his attention. "...that Snipes had a run-in with the _Wraiths_?"

Trying to be conspicuous, and succeeding in blending in with the other occupants of the street, Rafe got down on his knee as if to tie one of his frayed bootlaces. In that position, he quickly looked around to find the source of the mention of his gang.

There were two girls standing on the nearby corner. One of them was extremely short, with matted dark brown hair that went down to her shoulders. She was itching (most unladylike) at her knee, riding up her skirt as she did so. Her companion, a girl with at least a head on her (and possibly quite a few years), had hair lighter, wavier and longer. The second girl wore a similar blouse as the shorter but, instead of a matching her ankle-length skirt, she wore a simple pair of boys' trousers.

As interesting as their appearances were, Rafe disregarded them as he began to eavesdrop on the conversation that they were currently having.

It was the shorter of the two girls turn to speak again. "Blink found him this afternoon, can ya believe it, with a nasty cut upon his cheek. One of those hooligans got him with his knife when Snipes refused to turn over his profits this morning."

"Damn _Wraiths_. I don't know who they think they are, but if they don't stop nosing in on our territory, they're going to have me to deal with," snorted her companion, a fiery look in her emerald eyes.

As the first girl giggled at the idea, Rafe dared to sneak a closer look at them both. Because their clothes were worn and faded, and their faces smudged, it was easy for him to recognize the pair as newsgirls. However, Rafe caught a glimpse of sparkle under the blouse of the second girl. The thief in him hungered as he realized that there was a genuine piece of jewelry hanging around her neck.

_That could fetch me quite a bit if I handled the merchandise right_, he thought to himself as he stood up and hurriedly wiping his hands on his slacks. He ran a quick hand through his dark hair, slicking it back in what he hoped was an attractive manner, before approaching the pair.

Brushing aside their mention of his gang, Rafe grinned at them both. "Afternoon, ladies. What's a fine pair of gals like you doing hanging out on the street on such a swell day as this one?"

While the shorter of the two just looked at Rafe in disgust, the taller girl turned her nose up at him and sneered. "Hey, buddy, beat it. This is _our_ selling spot."

Rafe continued to smile, though it definitely took some effort. "Yes, miss..?"

But, if that was a bid at trying to continue the conversation, it did not work. "You heard her. Beat it," echoed the shorter girl, mimicking the expression the other girl wore.

Ignoring her, Rafe continued to look at the girl who wore the chain. Now that he was in front of her and could look past the newsprint that marred her features, he found himself appreciative of her dark eyes, contrasting pale skin and golden brown curls. And her attitude astounded him in a way that he himself was unprepared for. After all, didn't she want to take on his gang single-handed? And, as full of folly as that notion would be, didn't the thought mean anything?

"Listen, kid. I don't know why you is looking at me like that," she began, a little perturbed at his forwardness as she caught him staring at her intently, "but you need to back off. This is our," she repeated, gesturing to herself and her friend, "spot for the time being and I don't want to see your mug here when we start selling tomorrow. Got it?" And, with that, she nodded to the second girl and they, still clutching their unsold stack of papers, began to walk away. She was obviously bothered by his attention and, rather than remain in his presence, left the corner.

Momentarily stunned, Rafe remembered the silver chain just as he caught sight of the two girls getting swallowed up by a nearby group of people. But, right before he made to follow the pair, he paused. It was not due to a sudden change of heart or because of the crowd cutting between him and the girls. It was because of a quiet voice that he felt was being directed toward him, though it was difficult for him to find the source.

"I wouldn't go after her if I were you. That's Jack Kelly's girl."


	2. II ENTER SWITCH

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

**--**

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**II. ENTER SWITCH**  
_And_ _you find yourself powerless, with everything that exists.  
You're numb._

Rafe shielded his eyes against the New York sun, hoping to see the owner of such a voice. There, standing a few paces behind him was a short boy, appearing to be no older than twelve. Like the pair of girls he had just encountered, this child could be recognized as a street Arab; the few papers he held in the hand not staying his cigarette identified him as a newsboy. Ignoring the cloud of smoke rising above the boy, Rafe took a step closer. "You talking to me, kid?"

The boy took a careful drag from his cigarette, reducing it to just ash, before tossing the ends to the ground. "Yeah," he replied breathily, the smoke exiting from his mouth as he smirked. "I was just warning you about that dame. She ain't one to be messed with, specially round here."

"And why's that?"

"I told you already. That's Jack Kelly's girl. Ain't ya never heard of him?" he asked, looking disbelievingly at the older boy.

"Name sounds familiar. What he do?" Rafe asked curiously, debating on whether or not it would be more advantageous to listen to the boy's story or just take his money. _Ahh_, he thought to himself as the boy paused to light up another cigarette, _but if you found out more about that girl and this Kelly, you might be able to make a bigger score than some kid's pocket money. Or, at the very least, figure out what it was about her that aroused your interests._

Once the kid had placed the cigarette on the edge of his bottom lip, he continued, despite Rafe's own contemplated silence. "He was one of them leaders of the newsies strike last summer. If it weren't for him and his pal, Jacobs, we would be paying ten more cents a hundred papes. That's enough to get him some recognition around this city."

Rafe nodded as he took in the information; something like that would be worth knowing. But, however, it did not explain why this boy kept him from going after that girl.

Something on his face must have given his thoughts away because the boy let out a short laugh, taking his cigarette out of his mouth before he did in order to prevent it from dropping to the dirt. "I bet you is wondering why I warned you about going after her. Well, ya see, unless you want to get on the wrong side of the Cowboy, you leave his girl alone. He's a bit protective of her, though if you actually talk to Stress, you'd never understand why."

"Stress? Is that her name?"

"Yup. At least, that's the name that she goes by. I don't ask too many questions of people. I learned that I find out more stuff when I keep my trap shut."

"I like the way you think, kid," Rafe said with a grin. This child reminded him of himself when he was younger.

Placing his cigarette back into his mouth, the boy stuck out a hand. "The name's Switch. Just came to these parts myself, and I've made it my point to know what's going on. Be glad to give you some pointers, if you need them."

"Nice to meet you, Switch, but I ain't too sure that I'll be needing any pointers," Rafe said, growing a bit heated that Switch assumed him new to the streets of New York. But, when the boy shrugged his shoulders and began to head off in another direction, obviously intending to sell of the last of his wares, Rafe called out to him. Maybe the kid could help him in some way, after all. "Hey, there. Hold on a second, buddy. I may not need any pointers, but I do need a place to stay. Do you happen to know where I can find out where this Kelly character sleeps?"

Switch paused and, again, shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, I can tell ya where he sleeps. He stays where we all stay – at the newsboys' lodging house on Duane Street. I might warn you though, it's a nickel a night, two if you want a hot meal for supper. And the Cowboy is very territorial about who gets to stay in the house. Ya might not want to mention that you've taken a fancy to his girl."

Rafe smiled to himself as he thought of the change wrapped in his dirty handkerchief. His smile turned a tad puzzled when heard Switch's comment about his taking a fancy to Kelly's girl. True he found her appealing, but wasn't he in it for the jewelry? Of course. After all, once a thief, always a thief. And this thief wanted to land a great score before returning back to his crate.

--

"Hey Cowboy, what happened to your girl today? I thought you hardly ever let her out of your sight?" cracked Racetrack, a short dark-haired boy, as he sat on the floor, holding his five cards up and close to his chest, while chewing on the stub of his cigar.

"Hell, Race, you know Stress. If she decides she's going to go out with Hope and sell some papes, that's what she's going to do," replied the taller boy, his red bandana slightly askew around his neck as he fiddled with the ends, a habit he had for whenever he had a poor hand.

A third boy, a blonde haired newsie with a brown patch covering his left blue eye, noticed Jack's bandana and added two pennies to the ante in the middle of the bunkroom floor. Then, to keep his opponents' minds off of his own bluff, Kid Blink added, "And you let her? I thought the two of you was selling papes together? I mean, specially with the _Wraiths_ out on the streets."

Jack let go of his worn bandana and eyed his own cards again. "Don't mention those god damn thieves to me, Blink. Don't you think I tried to warn her about them? But she said that she and Hope could handle it, so she went. Besides, I got Dave to sell papes with when Stress ain't around."

David Jacobs, one of the instigators in last summer's newsie strike, sold the morning edition of the paper but usually headed home right after; unlike the other's, David had a family and a home to return to after a hard day of selling. Nonetheless, David and Jack, though having nearly nothing in common, had become friends shortly prior to the strike, a friendship that continued even after Jack had stopped courting David's older sister, Sarah.

"True that," replied Racetrack as he added another penny to the pot, despite the pair of three's he held. Though Jack was playing with his bandana, Race noticed that Blink's grin had faded into a concentrated frown, a sure sign that he held nothing more than a face card high. "Anyway, a gal like her can handle herself, eh Cowboy?"

Jack threw his cards down onto the floor, tired of the talk about Stress. He was annoyed enough that she had left without him that morning; did the fellows have to remind him constantly? "You know what, guys? I fold. I think I'm gonna go out and make sure that she's alright. I'll see you all before lights out."

Both Blink and Race nodded before turning their attention back to their card game. Jack stood up and proceeded to walk out of the bunkroom door, though he had not gone very far when he heard Race's voice yell out, "A pair of three's beats your King high, Blink. Hand the pot over." Shaking his head, Jack continued down the steps and made his way out the front door, pausing to nod at Kloppman before heading out.

Jack stuck both hands into his pockets as the early autumn evening's breeze brought a chill to his thinly covered arms. Before he could decide if he wanted to head over to the Bottle Alley Home for Newsgirls to see if Stress was in, or wait to see if she visited him on Duane Street, Jack watched as a lone figure made it's way toward the Newsboy's Lodging House. Thinking that he knew all of the boys who made their home there, Jack leaned against the doorway, watching to see who it was that was approaching.

The dark haired boy seemed older than most of the boys who slept in the bunks, but, as Jack Kelly knew too well, looks could be deceiving. He carried himself with a bit of confidence that most newsies allowed themselves, especially since they had won the strike in July. However, as he drew closer, Jack was sure he had never seen him before.

"Hey there, stranger. Looking for a place to stay?" he asked as he spit in his hands and stuck it out.

The new boy looked haughtily at Jack's extended appendage but only for a moment. Mimicking the gesture, he spit into his own hand and shook. "Yeah, I am, actually. The name is Rafe," he added as he eyed Jack's red bandana and the somewhat new cowboy hat he had around his neck.

Jack noticed the direction in which Rafe's hazel eyes where looking and grinned. "The name's Kelly, Jack Kelly, but most of the guys around here call me Cowboy," he said as he gestured behind him towards the entrance of the lodging house.

_Bingo_. _Time to make the best use of that kid's information. _"You mean, you're _the_ Jack Kelly? The one that took on Pulitzer and all those other hoity toity mugs and won? Golly," Rafe said, pretending to be in awe of the year younger boy in front of him.

Rafe may not have heard of Jack Kelly, but he sure guessed that flattering the boy was a great way to get into the lodging house that the boy was nonchalantly guarding. With a look of pride, he stepped to the side, allowing Rafe entrance into the building. "Yeah, that's me. And I'd be glad to tell you all about the newsies strike, but I gotta go out and find my girl." With a point inside the door, he continued, "Just go on inside and tell the old man at the desk – his name's Kloppman – that Cowboy said you could stay. Just make sure that you got your lodging fare, alright, kid?"

Rafe bit back a retort before remembering the gorgeous glitter he had his eye on earlier that afternoon. _Just remember the gir— the necklace_, he corrected himself as he nodded. "Thanks Cowboy," Rafe said, glad he could drop the demeaning "admirer" act once Cowboy had left the lodging house. "Tell Stress 'howdy' for me," he added, without thinking, as he entered the building, pulling out his dirty handkerchief as he did.

It was not until Jack had started in the direction of the Bottle Alley home that he realized what the new kid had said. "Stress?" he asked himself, pausing as if he was going to turn back and go to the lodging house. But, with a shake of his head, Jack continued on his way. After all, if Rafe had heard all about Jack Kelly, it only made sense that his girl was known too. Anyway, he would just ask Stress when he saw her.

As it was, Jack did not even have to worry long about seeing Stress, nor did he have to make the journey over to Bottle Alley. Just when he was a few blocks away from Duane Street, he saw two figures running down the road so fast that he almost expected to see a crowd of coppers running behind them.

"Stress, Gypsy? Is that you, girls?" Jack asked as he recognized the pair.

Both Gypsy and Stress slowed their running when they heard his familiar voice. Stress grabbed his arm as Gypsy began panting. "Cowboy, come quick. They got Hope," Gypsy spat out, once she had gotten her breath back.

Jack paused for a moment as he looked from Stress' disheveled state into Gypsy's fierce blue eyes. "What do you mean 'they got Hope', Gip?"

"Just what she said, Jack," Stress said, the attitude she had tossed about earlier eerily absent, her normally stormy eyes clouded in grief as she continued to hold onto his right arm . "It was the _Wraith_s again, and this time they got Hope. And it's all your fault."


	3. III ENTER KLOPPMAN

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

**--**

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**III. ENTER KLOPPMAN**  
_Will I ever break free?_

"All my fault? What the hell did I do?"

As Stress opened her mouth to explain her heated words Gypsy cut her off. "Listen, Cowboy, that ain't important right now. What's important is that we get Kloppman and bring him over to Bottle Alley."

When Stress' grip on his arm tightened, Jack allowed himself a gulp. If the girls had raced all the way to Duane Street from Bottle Alley just to get Kloppman, it had to be serious. Only Kloppman, a veteran of the Civil War back in the '60's, near forty years prior, had the skill to fix the worst of wounds whenever one of the newsies got hurt. "Alright, girls. Let's go get Kloppman."

The trio turned and began to run towards the Newsboys' Lodging House. Jack, whose legs was longer and, also, hadn't just sprinted from halfway across the City, broke out in front and was already explaining the situation to Kloppman at his desk by the time Gypsy and Stress entered the building.

"So, a little one has gotten hurt," Kloppman questioned as he reached around his desk drawers and began packing a little black bag with ordinary bandages and tape.

Jack thought of Hope, always thinking she was older than her thirteen years, and grimaced. "Yeah, Kloppman. From what the girls," he said, acknowledging the out of breath pair as they barged into the lobby of the lodging house, "tell me, Hope got hurt real bad tonight."

Quickly recovering her composure, Gypsy nodded. "Me and Stress had just gotten back to Bottle Alley when we found Hope crying on the steps. We brung her inside but there was blood everywhere. We just knew we had to come and get some help, Sir, so we ran."

Stress nodded slowly as Gypsy spoke but when her companion finished, she exploded. "Those damn _Wraiths_ got her. She went to finish selling a few more copies of the evening edition and they got her. I swear, if I ever meet one of them myself, I'll kill 'em. Them lousy scabbers only go after the little ones who ain't done nothing wrong and can't defend themselves, like Snipes and Hope. So help me God, I'll murder the thieving bastards!"

There was a moment of silence as Jack laid his hand comfortingly on her arm. "Don't worry, we'll get them. But first, we gotta take care of Hope."

Stress looked appreciatively at him. Everyone knew that Jack thought of Hope as nothing more than a tagalong, not unlike David's younger brother Les; for him to focus on Hope instead of his own feelings really meant something.

"Yes, let's tend to the little one," agreed Kloppman as he snapped his bag shut, placed his hat on his head of white hair, pushed his wire-rim glasses up his nose and picked his bag up off of the desk.

But, before the four of them could exit the lodging house and make for Bottle Alley, a new voice was heard. "Sorry to interrupt, but us upstairs couldn't help but overhear what was going on," the voice said as he finished coming down the stairs and entered the lobby. Everyone turned and looked as Rafe continued, "And I just thought I'd offer to help some. I've been in a scuffle or two in my time, so I know a bit about bandaging up."

Stress looked curiously at the dark-haired boy, recognizing him but, regardless of the fact that it had only been that afternoon that she had encountered him, she couldn't remember how she knew him. Jack, however, smiled and nodded. "Nice of you to help out, kid," he said before turning to Kloppman. "Ready, Kloppman?"

The old man nodded and proceeded to hurry out of the lodging house, swinging his little black bag as he went. Gypsy had already ran ahead to check on Hope and let her know that help was on the way, while Rafe followed Kloppman so that he found his way to the Girls' Home. Jack made to follow after Rafe but turned to look at Stress in surprise when she grabbed his arm again, this time stopping him from going after the others. Quickly, noticing his expression, she asked, "Who's that kid that went after Kloppman? You seem to know him."

Jack shrugged. "Some new kid that arrived at the lodging house today. Rafe, I think he said his name was. He seemed to be a good guy."

"I ain't too sure, Jack. I get the strange idea that I know that kid for some reason."

"_Tell Stress 'howdy' for me."_ A sneer distorted his face as he remembered, jealously, the words the boy had tossed at him upon entering the lodging house. "Well, now that you mention it, I think he may know you too. After all, he did tell me to tell ya 'howdy' for him."

Stress let her hand slide off of his arm, looking as surprised as Jack had only moments earlier. "_What_? I just meant that I've seen him on the streets before. I don't really know the kid."

Jack waved her argument away; they could talk about that later. "Look, it don't matter none right now. What matters to me is that Hope is hurt and you seem to think it's my fault. What did I do?"

Stress crossed her arms across her chest. "It is your fault. From what I got out of Hope before me and Gip left to get Kloppman, she was selling her papes when some thug demanded her money. Well, you know Hope is. She forgot she was just a little girl and stepped up to the goon. She told him to back off, that Manhattan was Jack Kelly's territory. And, you know what, the guy took out his knife and sliced her for it. 'Tell Kelly that Manhattan belongs to the _Wraiths_,' he said before leaving her down on the ground. I tell ya, I don't know how the hell she made it all the way to the steps of Bottle Alley."

Jack awkwardly stepped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, hoping to comfort her amidst all the confusion. "Hope's one tough cookie. She's gonna come out of this alright. Just you see."

Stress snuggled up close to him, laying her head on his shoulder, ignoring the stale scent of cigarette smoke that clung to his bandana and grey vest. "Thanks, Cowboy," she whispered, hoping he was right. "You're one in a million."

"Right back at ya," he replied, hoping he was right as well.

--

"Sorry, buddy, but nothing doing. Boys just ain't allowed in the girls' bunk and I don't need Mrs. Cook coming back here and tossing me out on the street cause I let you in."

Rafe looked over at the petite blonde who had been staring him down ever since he arrived shortly before Kloppman did. Rapidly figuring out where he was and where he was going was a skill that had benefited him more times that not when he was a pickpockets besides Quick. "Listen, doll, you let the old man in," he hissed, not bothering to keep his phony smile in place since it as only the two of them in the lobby. He was annoyed at her defiance and didn't care if she knew it.

Her blue eyes flashed in anger as she held up one finger. "First off, the name ain't _doll_, its Rae, alright? Second," she continued, raising up another finger, "Kloppman ain't just an old man – he's Kloppman!"

Rafe rolled his eyes at her obvious statement. "Yeah, well, I was sent here by Jack Kelly his self to help out with this Hope girl."

The anger in Rae's eyes melted into an amused twinkle. If Rafe thought that she would be impressed that it had been Jack Kelly who had sent him over, he was wrong. "Cowboy," she snorted, raising an eyebrow. "If you're a friend of his, then there sure as hell ain't no way that I'm letting you take one step past this spot."

For the second time that day Rafe found himself marveling at something a woman had said. _How long was I sitting on that crate?_, he asked himself silently. _None of the gals I've met today are acting anything like they're supposed to._

Rae stared him down one final time before turning her back on him, signaling that she was done with him. Rafe continued to watch her, hoping for a break in her stance. But, when it appeared that she had, indeed, finished speaking with him and was not going to allow him any further access to the Bottle Alley Home, Rafe stuck his hands in the back pockets of his breeches and exited the building.

Once outside, Rafe paused on the second to last step of the building. For a moment he stood there, surrounded by the still that accompanied New York City nights, trying to think of another way to get inside to talk to the latest _Wraith_ victim. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he felt a single object in the back right pocket of his slacks. Stepping down from the stairs and moving slightly so that he was positioned under the flickering streetlights, Rafe examined the two inch piece of metal he had slipped into his pocket earlier that afternoon. His _blade_.

Blades were the reason he stood just outside the Bottle Alley Home for Newsgirls'. Blades were the reason he was trying to find another way into the bunkroom of said building. Blades were the reason he needed to speak to Hope. Blades were the reason he needed to hear from her which one of his boys it had been that attacked her. Blades were the reason he needed to find out why.

From what Rafe had overheard while skulking around on the steps back in the Newsboys' Lodging House, a second Manhattan newsie had been attacked by a member of the _Wraiths_, his own gang, who used some sort of blade to try to get their valuables. That was two of them in one day alone -- the one day he had been out and about instead of holed up and on the crate. But, as any member of his gang knew, blades were not to be used. The _Wraiths_ relied on their stealth and speed, as well as their own sort of cunning, to get their wares; they never resorted to violence. As it had been since Quick's murder, thus ending the reign of the Marks, blades were only to be used as protection. But who needs protection from a little girl?

While he remained standing just outside the Bottle Alley Home for Newsgirls Rafe silently slipped his own blade, never once marred by a speck of blood, back into his pocket. _Dicey, what the hell is going on?_


	4. IV ENTER LOKI

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**IV. ENTER LOKI**  
_I searched my world but I can't find you.  
You're standing there but I can't touch you._

Dice's first day on the crate had been a good one. Though there had been a slight hum of conversation on the topic of Rafe, none of the boys had the nerve to be the first to approach him on the subject. Instead, they all, one by one, wordlessly handed their earnings over to Dice. For they knew, as it was and always had been, the man on the crate had the power. And Dice, he loved that power.

As a tall shaggy haired boy with a large nose slouched his way over to Dice and placed fifty-three cents and a gaudy ring into Dice's waiting palm, Dice smirked haughtily as he shook his hand up and down, slowly, as if weighing it's contents. "Pretty good job today, Riff. I'm proud of ya," he said before hanging the ring back to Riff. According to the rules of the _Wraiths_, instituted by Quick and adopted by Rafe, anything a _Wraith_ took that wasn't food or money, it was theirs to keep without the boss taking their cut and distributing it out among the others.

"Sure thing, boss," Riff gruffly replied before walking over to where Rhys and Jax were playing a game with cards. _Boss, I like the sound of that_, Dice thought as he began to nod to himself, taking a head count of all the boys who had returned to their hideout for the night; when he had finished, he determined that they were all there sans for one. As it was, it was almost time to divvy out the day's earnings - Rafe usually split the takings after the nighttime boys got back. Dice slid off of the crate and, lifting it up slightly, he added Riff's contribution to the money in the center, all the while thinking about how he would get a majority of the profits without leaving the warehouse once. He smiled widely to himself before turning his thoughts to, for the umpteenth time that afternoon, Rafe and his hasty decision to take off. _What were you thinking, Boss?_

Shaking his head slightly, Dice let the crate fall back down to the floor and sat back upon it just as he heard footsteps approaching his corner. From the head count he had taken a moment earlier he knew that it was the last of the gang to arrive: Loki Wares.

At sixteen, the towheaded boy was the youngest, and newest, member of the _Wraiths_. Tall and thin, with longish sandy-colored hair and grey eyes, Loki had been a huge find of Rafe's.

"_Hey, boy._ _Get back here."_

_Loki turned around and stared blankly at the short, dark-haired man who was standing at the corner. Rolling his eyes Loki recognized the man as Nero Rassi, the sleaziest and most well-known master of the nightwalkers off of Duane Street. "What do you want, Nero," he called out, knowing full well why the twenty-year old was harassing him yet again._

"_You know what I want, Loki. You took something from me and I have yet to get my money off of you."_

_Loki sighed and leaned against the front door of the closed eatery. "I haven't seen your whore in weeks, Nero. And, I'm telling you again – if she wanted to go with me and my brother, then I ain't paying for nothing."_

_Nero slid forward until he was standing right next to Loki. As he began to poke Loki on the chest, he said, "That bitch is my property. Anytime she sleeps with anyone, whether it's her choice or not, I get paid for it. Just because you and your scumbag brother convinced her to spread her legs without handing over the dough first doesn't mean it ain't gonna cost ya."_

"_My, my, my, Nero._ _I though that after our last chat you would have learned to treat those poor girls of yours with some respect."_

_Momentarily forgetting about Loki, Nero ran his hands across his slick black hair before whirling around and grinning at a shadowed figure. "Rafe, that you? Didn't see you standing over there. Shouldn't you be watching over your gang or something?"_

_The figure took a step forward so that he was standing under a streetlight. Then, the flickering flame glinting off of the blade that he tossed nonchalantly from one hand to the next, Rafe nodded. "Well, Nero, all of my boys are in for the night, so I figured that I would head out for some air. Good thing I did, too. Seems like you forgot that lesson me and Quick taught you last time we met." _

_Nero, shedding his oily manner as if a second skin, decided to adopt a more sympathetic attitude. "Ah, Quick. Good man. Such a shame what happened. I'm sorry for your loss, Rafe."_

_Loki, who hadn't been paying a lick of attention to Nero once he had started to prod his chest, looked up sharply when he heard Nero's hurried apologies. However, Nero's ramblings ceased when Rafe's mouth slid into a frown and his right hand gripped the blade._

"_Yeah, well, Rafe, it's been nice talking with you again. I, uh, I gotta go back and make sure that all of my girls are being taken care of good," he stammered, recognizing the expression on Rafe's face. It was the same look he wore right before he and Quick beat the living tar out of Nero when they spotted him raising a hand to one of his girls on the street._

_Rafe_ _watched Nero scamper away before palming his blade and walking towards Loki. "Hey, there. He didn't get none of his grease on ya, did he?"_

_Loki raised an eyebrow at the older boy and smirked. _So, this is Rafe? "_Nah, he's harmless, anyway. Though," Loki paused as he withdrew a chain from his pocket and laughed, "his jewelry is awfully nice."_

_Rafe_ _joined in with Loki's laughter as he slipped his blade back into his pocket and reached his hand out for the chain. "Did you get this off of that pimp without him knowing?"_

Got ya hook, line and sinker. "_Damn, right. It's what I do," Loki shrugged, hiding a smile at how easily he read the boy, as he dropped the chain into his waiting hand._

_Rafe_ _turned the necklace over in his hand giving Loki a view of a pale pink scar, just past healing. _So, it really is Rafe_, Loki thought to himself, slightly surprised. For some reason, he thought the leader of the _Wraiths _would have been bigger. "Really," began Rafe as he hesitantly handed back the chain, "If that's the case, then you could be the best pickpocket around since my old pal Quick took up the sport. Hey, let me ask you a question, pal. Have you ever heard of the _Wraiths_?"_

_Loki's_ _sideways grin answered the question for him. _

"Hiya, Loki. What do you got for me?" asked Dice, his hand outstretched, his face, shadowed by his derby, twisted into a greedy smile.

Loki looked down at Dice, who was sitting on the old, splintered, wooden crate as if it were a golden throne and he the king, and smirked. He hadn't expected to see that Rafe had left his crate so soon, but he was not surprised; Loki had begun to wonder if his persistent questions about Quick and side comments about the luxury of life on the street were just passing right over Rafe's head, instead of urging him to make for the street himself. No, what was a bigger surprise to him was that it was _Dice_ who had taken up the crate. Did they realize how easy they just made everything for him? As his smirked faded into a slight, amused grin, Loki simply replied, "Nothing."

That one word being uttered caused a hush to fall over the dusty warehouse. As all of the others looked over to see how the new boss would react to this act of defiance, Dice calmly stood up from the crate. Then, placing a booted foot onto the top of the crate, and resting his arms on his knee, Dice shook his head at the year younger boy. "Loki, I know you've only been here with us for 'bout a month or so, but I feel that I ought to set you right. You see, _I'm_ the boss. I sit on the crate, I keep watch over the warehouse, I get the loot. You," he continued, removing his right hand from his knee in order to gesture towards Loki, "go out and run the business with the others. Then you give me the money and we're all happy. Got me? Now, I'll ask you again: What do you got for me?"

There was a moment of silence that followed Dice's words that was only broken when Loki rustled around in his pants pocket and slowly pulled out a thin piece of metal attached to a black handle. The blade, slightly crusted with the blood that he had failed to wipe off after its last use, moved fluidly from this hand to that as Loki, in a mockery of Rafe's own habit of tossing his virgin blade, smiled at Dice once more. "Nothing."

--

"Hey, pal, what you doing standing out here? How's Hope?"

Rafe slowly spun on his heel. "Hey Cowboy, Miss," he nodded when he saw both Jack and Stress approaching, hand in hand, the Bottle Alley Home. "Can't honestly tell ya how the kid is. Some sort of guard is standing in the front lobby and she ain't lettin' no boys inside, except for that old man. Not that I think she'd let you in, Cowboy, even if you were a gal. That dame seems to have it in for ya."

Jack rolled his eyes as Stress let out a snort. "That would be Rae," she said with a smirk before pushing past Rafe. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go see how Kloppman is handling Hope."

Rafe threw his hands up in the air and stepped aside as Stress hurried past him and entered the building. "You got yourself a feisty one there, Cowboy," he said as he jerked his thumb in the direction she had gone.

"Yeah, she is," replied Jack as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it and placed it on his lip. "And, because you're new around here, I'm gonna hip you to the way things work around here. Ya see," he began, taking a puff on his cigarette and ignoring Rafe's annoyed expression. For the second time that day someone assumed that he was a schmuck who had no idea to how the world worked. After Jack let out a mouthful of smoke, he continued, "Stress is my girl. If you want to talk to her out on the street and all, go right ahead, but remember – she's spoken for."

Resisting the urge to yell out that he was not interesting in the girl, Rafe just nodded. "I got ya, Cowboy. I, you know, just wanted to ask her and her little friend where a good place to spend the night was. I couldn't get the two of them to give me an answer, so I talked to some kid, Switch. He sent me on my way to Duane Street."

Jack took another drag off of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and using the tip of his boot to put it out. "I don't mean to sound all protective or nothing, but I can't be too careful with all these attacks you know. This is the fourth one in Manhattan this week. Though," Jack said looking past Rafe and towards the lit Bottle Alley Home, "this is the first attack where one of us might not make it."

Rafe took a step back and ran his hand through his dark hair. _Four?_ _There have been four attacks this week alone?_ "Hey, Cow—," he began but stopped when a girl, near on twenty, with long dark hair, slowly exited the building, pausing before approaching the two boys.

"Angel," Jack said, recognizing the girl as a newsgirl who was very close to Hope, "how is she?"

Angelstar shook her head slowly and, under the flickering lamplight, both Jack and Rafe could see tears in her brown eyes.

"Shit," Jack exclaimed as he pushed past Angelstar and ran up the steps into the Bottle Alley Home, leaving Rafe with the girl, tears silently streaming down her own newsprint smudged face. Rafe knew where he was going – surely Stress and the other girls he knew wouldn't be taking this well. As he watched Jack disappear inside the entrance, he couldn't bring himself to look at Angelstar, who had sat down on the first step to the building, as if her world had forever changed - and it had with the loss of a girl she saw as her little sister. And, as Rafe stuck his hands in his front pocket and thought of the young girl he had encountered out selling, mere hours earlier, her life cut short with a swipe of a _Wraith_ blade, he couldn't help but think that he should have prevented all of this.


	5. V EXIT HOPE

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**V. EXIT HOPE**  
_Try to talk but the words are just not there_

Jack ran past the empty sign-in desk and knew that Mrs. Cook, Rae and the others must be up at the steps in the bunkroom. He himself raced up the flight of stairs and entered the room just as Kloppman was placing his hat back onto his head and backing away out of the room, speaking to the elderly Mrs. Cook, head of the Bottle Alley Home, as he did so. The pair nodded to Jack when they saw him but did not stop talking to each other as they left the bunkroom. As they passed him, Jack could hear that they were discussing what to do next.

"You can have the morgue come pick up her body tomorrow and we can take it from there," murmured Kloppman as Mrs. Cook removed her glasses in order to wipe a tear away from her eyes. As a widow who never had any children, Abigail Cook came to regard all the girls who stayed in the Bottle Alley Home as her own.

Jack turned around and watched them slowly make their way down the stairs, slightly disturbed that Mrs. Cook didn't tell him to get out of the bunkroom. The loss of Hope must have struck her harder than he had first thought for her to ignore a chance to preserve the chastity of her girls -- it was well known that she didn't allow men in the bunkroom.

When he no longer saw their backs, Jack spun back and looked forward. The first sight he saw, besides the crowd of solemn girls around a single bunk, was a still figure lying on said bunk – a figure covered with a moth-eaten blanket. _Hope_.

With a sigh and his hands in his pocket Jack shuffled his way over to the gathering. Trying to keep his eye off of the bunk, he stepped over to where Stress stood, leaning into Gip's embrace. Jack tapped Gip on the shoulder. Tearing her eyes away from the morbid sight, Gip smiled weakly over at Jack and tipped Stress into his open arms. Stress hardly noticed, instead staring at Hope's fallen form, tears in her golden eyes.

Jack gave her shoulders comforting squeeze. When she felt his calloused hands through her thin white blouse, Stress turned her head up to look at him. "Kloppman couldn't save her, Jack."

He had no idea what to say. As a semi-orphan left to the streets with the death of his mother and incarceration of his father, loss was nothing new to him. He had lost many a pal to the jail-like Refuge, disease, street wars and more. However, this was the first time one of his own was struck down unexpectedly. "I know," was all he could say. With a dirty hand, he began to wipe away a tear from her face.

Stress swatted his hand away, pulled back out of his embrace and turned to face him. With a sniff she made a broad statement looking past the girls and Jack. "We've gotta get them for this, Jack."

Jack sighed again; he was expecting this. It made sense that she would want to get revenge for Hope's death. Unfortunately, for the most part, Stress was all bark and no bite -- she left the fighting to other's, such as Jack, Rae and Gip, all admittedly more skilled in hand-to-hand fighting. Knowing that he would never be able to talk her out of vengeance, Jack focused on trying to get her to think of something else, at least for the moment. "Does Medda's sound good to ya, tonight?"

Gip and Rae both turned from their vigil to stare at Jack. There lie Hope, all the life wiped from her body, and Jack wanted to go ogle vaudeville performers at Irving Hall. With a snort, Rae turned from Jack to glance at Stress -- surely she would decline.

"You know, it does," Stress affirmed, despite her companions shocked expressions. Without turning back to look at Hope's bunk, Stress waved behind her. "There ain't no way in hell that I'm staying in here."

And no one said anything against her.

--

Jack exited the lodging house alone, drawing a cigarette from his vest pocket as he did so. He paused on the steps in order to strike a match. It was then, only after the flame lit his cigarette and he had tossed the match to the dirt that Jack puffed on his cigarette and nodded towards Rafe. "What happened to Angel?"

Rafe rose from where he had been perched on the bottom-most step, a seat he had taken after Angelstar had silently walked off. Shrugging, he answer, "Not too sure, Jack. After you ran inside she just wiped her nose, got up and walked away. I tried to stop her," he quickly improvised when Jack stared harshly down at him, "but she said she needed to get away from here for now." _Good one, Rafe_, he said to himself, _get Kelly pissed at ya before he tells ya about the attack_.

Jack nodded again, staying his cigarette in his right hand, flicking it's ash absent-mindedly. "That's Angel for ya. Though I know she ain't gonna be the only girl upset over this."

"So she's really -- gone? That kid, dead?" Rafe asked, his stomach tightening at the thought, despite his curiosity. He had hoped that maybe Angelstar was wrong somehow -- that one of his own hadn't struck down a young girl.

Jack nodded sadly. "Yeah."

Rafe gestured to the building front. "How's Stress taking it?" When Jack looked at him again, this time with a shrewd look in his eyes, Rafe quickly added, "Ya know. When I met them today, the two were together. I just figure this would hit her real hard, too."

Jack nodded again, bringing his cigarette to his lips, but no quite puffing on it. "Yeah," he answered, taking the cigarette off of his lips and throwing it to the ground. Not even nicotine was making this night any better. "In fact, that's why I'm out here, waiting. I told her I'd take her over to Irving Hall to get her mind off of things."

Rafe cocked his head in interest. "Irving Hall?" Irving Hall had been one of his favorite haunts back when he worked the streets so he was well acquainted with the performances there; he wasn't sure that it was the best idea to bring Stress there to forget about the night's occurrences.

Jack's somber mood cracked as he let out a small chuckle. "It's been such a long day and all that I forgot that you just arrived round here, Rafe," he said, not noticing Rafe's annoyed expression, fortunately hidden in the darkness of night, "Irving Hall, ya see, is ran by a friend of my family. She lets us in and gives a couple of rounds on the house. We all love Medda."

_Medda_. With a wolfish grin, Rafe recalled the voluptuous owner of Irving Hall, and the countless times she had had him thrown out for sneaking into her establishment. It would be a nice change to be welcomed in the Hall instead of hiding outin the rowdy crowds. Figuring it would be an even better benefit to continue in his charade, Rafe looked at Jack thoughtfully. "Irving Hall, hmm. Sounds like a swell place. It's a shame that I've never been to ajoint like that."

Jack, obliviously, fell for Rafe's ploy. "Well, I'm sure that some of the others are gonna want to join us, so I think it'd be alright if you came, too."

Rafe rubbed his hands eagerly. "Thanks, Jack that sounds great."

Jack turned around and looked at the front of the Bottle Alley Home. When he saw that no one was exiting, he swung back around and looked at Rafe. "Yeah, just do me two favors, though."

Rafe squinted his left eye and looked questioningly at Jack. "What are the favors?"

Jack grinned a crooked grin. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to head over to Duane Street and tell the others. The lodging house is on the way to Irving Hall and I promised Stress that I'd wait for her and whatever other girls are coming, but I think that the guys should hear about Hope. I want them to understand what this means."

Hesitantly, though he thought he already knew, Rafe asked, "And what does this mean?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "This means war. Those _Wraiths_ are going down."

Rafe gulped and managed a weak smile. "I hear ya, Cowboy."

"Good," he replied before starting back up the steps. Rafe took that to mean that he should get going already, heading over to Duane Street. However, when Jack reached the top of the steps he called back to Rafe. "Hey, buddy."

Rafe turned around, a little annoyed at the "buddy" remark, though he let it slide. "Yeah?"

"I almost forgot the second favor. When we get to Irving Hall, remember what I said earlier: Stress is spoken for."

Rafe watched Jack enter the lobby of Bottle Alley, shaking his head. That Jack Kelly sure had a one-track mind.


	6. VI ENTER COMPLICATIONS

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**VI. ENTER COMPLICATIONS**  
_I can feel a sense of danger,  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger_

Rafe stood right outside the Lodging House on Duane Street, debating his course of action. He could either follow Kelly's orders or return to the _Wraith_s hideaway. He snorted at the first option and rubbed his face with his hand. He never was one to follow orders; Quick had been an exception and, after all this time leading the gang, he had grown accustomed to giving the commands. But he couldn't just return to his boys and expect them to tell him what has been going on behind his back. They had kept this from him for so long already – why would they divulge their motives if they didn't respect him enough then? Shrugging his shoulders, Rafe headed up the steps to the Lodging House. He would have to make do getting his information from these newsies.

He entered the front door and nodded to the pair of kids manning the desk. "Kloppman not back yet?" he asked. Rafe had seen the old man leave the Bottle Alley home a good twenty minutes before he did. He had assumed that Kloppman would have made it back to the Lodging House before he did.

One of the boys, a short one with dark skin, shook his head. "Nope. Some of the older boys told us that we could watch the desk for him while they talked business." He jerked his hand towards his companion, a pale boy of comparable size with a bandage across his cheek. "Me and Snipes can handle the sign-ins if that's what you is looking for."

Rafe shook his head. "Later, kid. Right now I gotta see some of these older boys you mentioned. They all still upstairs?" Without waiting for an answer he turned to head up the steps.

"Boots."

He paused, one foot mid-step. _Boots?_ "Uhh, excuse me?"

The dark boy rolled his eyes. "I said 'Boots'. That's my name. And you can't go up there til you sign in."

Rafe prepared a retort but thought better of it. Instead, he pulled a nickel out of his trouser pocket and tossed it at Boots. Boots, not suspecting the throw, fumbled and dropped the coin. When he and Snipes bent down to retrieve the money Rafe began his ascent up the lodging house steps. By the time the pair were upright once more Rafe had made it upstairs.

He entered the bunkroom, walking right into an ongoing poker game. The four boys in the middle of playing looked up at his entrance before tossing their cards down and pausing in their talk. "Hey new kid, what's going on?" asked the short one with a cigar hanging off of his lip. He seemed perturbed at being interrupted.

Rafe bit back a retort. If he began arguing with the others he would never get any information. He cracked a smile instead before nodding at the boys. "Hiya…Race?" he asked, trying to remember the names of the boys he met in the bunkroom earlier. When the boy removed his cigar and bowed his head. Rafe continued. "Race. Fellas. I just came back from the Bottle Alley Lodging House and--"

A murmur among the boys, more than the four as the others left their bunks and surrounded Rafe, grew and Rafe grew uncomfortable. Maybe it would be better just to face his _Wraiths_. He shook his head. "Yeah, I went with Kloppman and Kelly down to that Girls' home and… it wasn't pretty. A girl – Hope – she… she died."

It was almost if a collective gasp echoed throughout the room. It was Mush, a young olive-skinned man, who spoke first. His expression was hurt and his voice soft, but the extensive muscles on his body pulsed in anger. "How? How did she die?"

Rafe stuck his hands in the back pockets of his slacks. "I don't know how to say this but Jack told me to, so… ," he paused and took a deep breath before finishing his sentence, "…the _Wraiths_ got the kid. Jack says that means war…"

The group went silent for a brief moment before all hell broke loose. The larger boys were hurriedly pulling on slacks over their long-johns while the younger ones huddled together in sadness. First the attack on Snipes, now this…

Rafe held up his hands in order to bring some order to the bunkroom. "Hey, guys, hang on. Cowboy sent me down here to warn you not to start a riot. Seriously, what can you do at this hour?"

Blink stood just off to Rafe's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's right. Jack wouldn't want us all to run off like this, would he?"

There was a murmur of agreement rippling throughout the boys. Rafe nodded and brought down his hands; he was not prepared to confront his gang just yet. "Listen, fellas. Jack is heading out to Irving Hall. He told me to get any of you'se who wants to come."

Some of the boys nodded while others slowly returned to their bunks. It had been a long day for all of them. And the days that were to come would only be longer.

Blink let go of Rafe's arm and shook his head. "I can't believe Jack would think of going to Medda's at a time like this," he mumbled under his breath.

Rafe heard the remark and shrugged his shoulders. "He wanted to make sure that he got his girl out of the Bottle Alley Home. Kloppman said something about them not getting the girl's body out of there until tomorrow."

Race, who was standing next to Blink continually smoking on the end of his cigar, nodded. "Sounds about right to me," he said before addressing Blink. "So, what do you say, Blink? Should we help our pal out?"

Blink nodded slowly, his ever-present smile eerily missing. "I guess." Maybe if they met with Jack down at the Hall they could plan their next move. The _Wraiths_ were going down.

--

Stress entered the dingy establishment on Jack's arm. Her upset at Hope's death had led to such fury that she could barely hold herself up. Jack supported her, whispering his comforts into her ear.

She didn't acknowledge his words, but leaned up against him. As much as she didn't want to be anywhere near the bunkroom that held Hope's body, she couldn't believe that she had agreed to go with Jack to Medda's Irving Hall. She must be more distraught than she thought. _Damn those _Wraiths

Even though Rafe had paused at the Duane Street Lodging House to talk to the boys, when Jack led Stress to a table in a smoke corner, Rafe was waiting. He sat at the table alongside Blink and Race, sipping his drink and looking on-edge. Jack maneuvered his way through the crowd making sure not to loose his hold on the girl. When he arrived at the table he looked down at the three boys. "My, you guys are quick."

Rafe coughed and Race smirked. It was Blink that spoke. "Actually, Jack, we've been waiting for you to arrive. I thought you would have been here already."

A scowl crossed Jack's handsome face. "I'm sorry I took so long but I've been a little busy," he replied gesturing to the uncharacteristically quiet girl on his arm. When Blink had the decency to look ashamed, Jack pulled a chair out for her. Stress kept her head down as she took the seat. Jack took a seat next to her.

Blink cleared his throat before addressing her. "I'm so sorry, Stress. We all know how close you were with Hope..."

At the mention of Hope's name she tensed. Her head jerked up and she glared at Blink. He shrank back in his seat before turning his head towards the stage. Stress could get pretty scary when she was mad. "I'm gonna get those damn _Wraiths_," she promised aloud.

It was an uncomfortable silence that followed before Rafe thought to reply to her statement. "Of course – and we'll all help. Right, Jack?"

Jack sighed. In the time it took to walk from Bottle Alley to Medda's Hall Stress had made that same pronouncement eight times. Nothing he could say would stray her from the subject. "Of course. You have to get them back for Hope, don't you?"

Stress heard the exasperation in his voice and glanced over at him. Jack met her eyes and reached for her hand. Before he could reach it she dropped it from the table. Jack pretended not to notice the action but Rafe did. He raised his eyebrow but Jack shook his head slightly. Rafe said nothing.

Jack turned in his seat so as to face her. "Stress, that's not what I meant. You kno—"

"Yeah, I know. I know exactly what you were saying," she replied heatedly. She pushed her seat away from him. "You never liked Hope, admit it! You're probably glad that those goons did her in. Well, not me. I'll go after them myself if you won't help me."

Jack fought back the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. She wouldn't dare leave him after what had happened. "Go right ahead, Stress. See if I care."

"Fine but don't you dare follow me, Cowboy," she added with a hiss, abandoning the seat she had only just occupied. Jack slumped back into his seat and she smirked before whirling around and storming out of the Hall. He should have known better to rise to her bait. In her pain it was her goal to bring everyone down with her. But he was not going to allow her to do that so easily; after all, he knew exactly what she was playing at.

Rafe glanced over at Jack who, just as soon as Stress disappeared into the crowd, began to rise from his seat. The other boys were either too busy ogling the dancer on stage or too used to this sort of behavior between the two to notice. Rafe was new to this sort of argument, though. "Hey, Kelly? Shouldn't you leave the girl be? She looked mighty mad."

Jack shook his head. "Yeah, I know. But, if I don't go after her, who will? Especially after Hope got hurt, you know? The last thing I would want is for her to run into someone and mouth off like Hope did…" He didn't finish his sentence, instead letting it trail to a close. He didn't have to finish it in order for Rafe to understand.

Rafe nodded before rising from his seat. "If you want, I'll go after her and bring her back to you." It was as if the words just fell from his mouth; he didn't know why he offered to go, it just seemed like the right thing to say at the time. Besides, maybe he can get more information – _or, at least, her necklace_, he reminded himself rather absently —off of her if they were alone.

Jack hesitated. He was about to decline Rafe's offer when he saw that, at that moment, Medda was strolling over to the table to say "hello". Jack spied the red-headed performer and sighed. "Bring her back soon," he said finally before retaking his seat. He would give the boy a five minute head start before going after him. There was something about Rafe regarding Stress that made him nervous.

Rafe nodded again and was gone. He didn't know the girl well enough to know where she was heading. He would have to rely on his own intuition for this one.

Luckily, his intuition was not needed on this strike. Once he easily maneuvered his way out of the smoky crowd and made it out the front door he found the girl standing with her back to the window, shaking in anger.

He approached her slowly. "Stress?"

She turned towards him and paused. The pause lasted a few seconds before she understood that it was he, and not Jack, that was coming after her. Jack's rejection, though unintended, coupled with Hope's murder, was too much for her to bear. Before Rafe could take another step further she broke into a run.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath before breaking off after her. He hadn't had to run in so long he wasn't sure he was in good enough condition to make it after her. However, for the second time that night, luck was on his side. After a sprint of four blocks, Stress slowed before turning down into a secluded alley.

When Rafe caught up with her he found her raring to stand off against him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled, her eyes nearly glowing. She was livid.

Rafe gulped. _What have I gotten myself into?_ He tentatively took a step closer. "Stress, just calm down."

"Did Cowboy send you?"

He thought the question over for a moment. She was furious, that was easy to see. Wouldn't she grow angrier if she knew that Jack had sent him to check up on her and bring her back to him? "No…" he answered slowly, drawing the syllable out.

She flinched and took a step back almost as if his answer had hurt her. "Then why? Why are you here? What have you followed me? Who are –"

He looked behind him, out into the dark street, to see if her shouts were drawing any attention. No one else was there. He sighed before interrupting her. "I don't know, alright? It… It just seemed like the right thing to do, okay?"

Her voice faltered and her yells stopped. He was glad for the quiet but it lasted only so long before it was interrupted by breaking, tearless sobs. Her knees gave way at the torrent of grief that overcame her. It didn't matter to her if she fell to the ground, tucked away in this alley, so long as she found solace. Rafe, however, caught her before she met the dirt.

Stress allowed herself to be held in his strong arms. The tears came loose and began to flood down her cheeks, leaving a trail down her smudged face. She hadn't bothered cleaning up entirely before leaving the Girls' Home so the newsprint from her earlier selling shift was still present.

Rafe wrapped his arms around her petite form, confused. One moment she was yelling at him, the next she was holding onto him. He barely noticed the wetness seeping into his shirt. He tried to soothe her but found himself unable to make any sound. Instead he gently guided her downward until they were both sitting, their backs leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway, arms holding onto each other.

He rested his chin on top of her head. He knew what it was like to lose someone so close to you. He had done so twice in his life: first his mother, then Quick. He didn't envy the girl the emotions she had tried to suppress only to have them come pouring out in such a way. He was just glad they he could be there for her to help her battle her pain. No one had done that for him.

As she cried she found herself clinging to him more desperately, regardless of the fact that he was not Jack, nor anyone she had known prior to that morning. It seemed like a perfect fit in that moment, that very instance.

When she moved, the mess of her curls fell off of her shoulders, allowing the moonlight to shine off of her silver chain. Rafe awkwardly rubbed the back of her blouse. He lowered his head to see if she was calming at all when he caught sight of the jewelry. He could take it now and she would never know. Or, at least, she would never know it was him. He could be long gone and back with his gang before she was coherent enough to realize that he had stolen from her while trying to comfort her.

But, for some strange reason, he couldn't make his hands move. They remained entwined around her waist, bringing her ever closer as she sobbed.

The necklace remained in place.


	7. VII ENTER MORE COMPLICATIONS

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**VII. ENTER MORE COMPLICATIONS**  
_Paralyzed and you don't seem to care…_

Dice got up from his crate. Holding up his arms, he took a step back. "Hey, hey, Loki. What's with the knife?"

Loki glanced at the blood-crusted knife he held in his hand and grinned. "You mean this knife, Dice?" He tossed it once more before walking forward. Dice flinched when the younger boy thrust it right under his nose. "Like it?"

Dice took a step back, nearly tripping over the crate. The other boys remained back a little, readying themselves to fight or flee depending on what happened next. Depending on what Loki actually did with that knife.

Dice kicked the crate out of his way before steadying himself. He glanced down at the blade and smiled nervously. "It's nice, Loki. You know, except for the blood and all."

Loki drew his knife back and hurriedly wiped it against his trousers. He smiled apologetically, an action that seemed quite out of place for all the malice his form was exuding. "You know how young girls are. They have so much blood in them. It was hard for me to keep this thing clean." No one responded to his claim. No one was too sure they understood what he meant. No one wanted to.

He enjoyed the quiet stupor that followed his pronouncement. He drank it in for a moment longer before bringing the knife eye-level with Dice. "How about now, Dicey? You like the knife now? Hmm?" His words came out in a sing-song manner and he damn near danced around the boy waving his knife. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Dice took a deep breath never removing his eyes from the steel Loki held in his hand. _Rafe never had to deal with this shit_. He opened his mouth to tell Loki to back off when he caught something carved on the blade's handle. Despite the blood that had filled the engraved portion it was easy to see that it was an ornate "M". _The sign of the Marks_. "What the hell is that, Loki?"

The blonde boy grinned cheekily and placed the metal against his cheek. He slowly caressed it down his cheek. This knife meant more to him than any of these _Wraiths_. He was proud to show it off to them. After all, it had been a gift to him from his brother.

Dice's beady eyes darted back and forth around. He was looking for something, anything, that would make sense of this situation. Nothing came to mind. But wait. His eyes fell on the door, left open after Loki had returned from the night. He stared at it before turning to look at the tall, lean brunet who stood next to it. _Rhys_. He blinked once in the boy's direction before returning his gaze to Loki. "Why would you have a knife like that? And with blood on it? If Rafe was here," he said, punctuating the statement with a hard look at the door, "he'd never let you get away with anything like this…"

"Oh, definitely," Loki agreed. His voice lost its childish tone; instead he adopted a more condescending manner. He had been waiting months for this moment. He might as well have a little fun before it ended. "_If_ Rafe was here. But, luckily, I already took care of that. And, by the time he gets back, I'll be able to take him down."

Rhys listened to the cheap banter being exchanged between Dice and Loki and gulped. _The Marks. _He was the closest one of the boys nearest to the door. It was up to him to go out and get Rafe. At least, that is what he thought Dice was getting at. He half-closed his brown eyes and counted to three. When he opened them again he caught Gus' eye. The dark boy gestured to the door with his head and nodded once. Rhys sighed in relief. Gus would cover him so that he could go get some help.

Gus took a step forward drawing Loki's attention away from the door. "Where the hell did you get that knife from, Loki? Us _Wraiths_ don't have dealings with the stinking Marks."

His ploy worked perfectly as Loki turned his gaze from Dice to Gus. Rhys took this opportunity to back out of the small room. He was gone before anyone noticed the empty space he left behind.

_Now to find Rafe…_

--

"Oh, Kelly. You look so down. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Jack looked up from the glass in his hand. "What? Huh?" he asked, surprised to see Medda looking at him with a confused expression. "Oh, I'm sorry Medda. I was just thinking about Stress and all."

Medda nodded. "I thought it had to be something like that." She raised her large purple feather up and used it to tickle his nose. "I've been talking to you for the past ten minutes and you haven't heard a word I've said."

_Ten minutes?_ Jack pushed his seat away from the table and got to his feet. "Listen, Medda, I gotta go. Stress is waiting for me outside. I guess I didn't realize how long it was since she left." He leaned in and kissed the older woman on her cheek. "Treat these guys good, alright?" he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Medda smiled and nodded. She adored the attention the young newsboys paid her. Her generosity kept them coming back to her establishment despite her aging. "Sure thing, Kelly."

He flashed her a quick grin before heading outside the Hall. The two of them should be just outside. They had nowhere to go together. And, if Rafe hadn't returned inside with Stress in tow, he must still be trying to persuade her.

But he was wrong. They were not there. They had already gone.

He scratched his head and looked about. There were plenty of people out on the street yet none of them were Stress or Rafe. "They've only been gone for ten minutes. They couldn't have gotten that far," he muttered to himself before pulling his hat onto his head. He took a few tentative steps away from the Hall before deciding on a plan.

Knowing Stress as he did, he doubted that she would listen to a word that Rafe said – and that's if Rafe was able to catch up with her in the first place. From first hand experience Jack was aware how fast that girl could run when she wanted. And where would she run to? Bottle Alley, of course. Even if Hope was still lying inside, Stress had nowhere to go but the worn steps of the Home.

Now that he had a destination in mind, Jack stared straight ahead. He would find her and talk to her. Heck, he might even apologize.

His concentration was so absolute, and his path so clear, he didn't even notice the pair huddled in the alleyway. This, of course, was a good thing.

--

Any thoughts of an apology fled from his mind as he stood there, arguing with Rae. "Just answer me, Rae. Is she, or is she not, in there?" He knew he was sounding desperate but after Rae had finally listened to his banging and opened the door to the Home, all he had wanted was a straight answer. Which Rae was just as determined not to give him.

Rae crossed her arms over her chest. "It ain't my fault that you decided to take Stress out only to lose her, Cowboy." She hadn't forgiven him yet for taking Stress out so soon after Hope's death. She felt he should have had a little more tact than that.

'Dammit, Rae. Can't you just help me out this once? Where the hell is she?" Jack braced his hands against the doorframe.

But Rae was not intimidated. She snorted instead. "Wouldn't you like to know," she said smugly before stepping back into the building. With all the force she had she closed the door.

It slammed in his face, effectively ending the conversation. _Damn Rae_, he fumed silently before removing his cowboy hat and scratching his head. Stress couldn't have returned to Bottle Alley that much was obvious. But, if not there, where was she?

He tossed his hat down onto the steps before lowering himself down beside it. She may not have returned yet but she would have to eventually. And he would be right there waiting to find out what took her so damn long.

--

Switch took a cigarette out from behind his ear and stuck it in his mouth. He struck a match against the sole of his boot and proceeded to light the end of the cigarette. He puffed on it twice before pausing just outside of Irving Hall. With all the uproar from the night before he had found it quite hard to sleep; therefore, a good hour before the rest of the newsboys would be rising, he found himself waiting for the circulation bell to ring. And, if he was lucky, he might be able to catch Medda out on her way out. Even if he couldn't get her to buy a paper off of him, at least she would tell him any news that she heard at the Hall.

It was quiet, something the boy had hardly encountered since he arrived earlier that season. The quiet was eerie and, considering all the recent attacks, it made him just a smidge nervous.

Two cigarettes later the quiet was beginning to rattle him. No one was to be seen on the street save the early morning grocers and vendors. He jangled the collection of pennies in his pocket nervously. What if one of the _Wraiths_ came out now when he was alone? He had not been afraid prior to the slaying of Hope. When the other two boys got attacked last week he though he could handle himself. But dead, death and dying? He didn't even want to imagine that happening to him.

He shivered slightly and threw his newly lit third cigarette to the ground. He couldn't stand the chance. He would have to go back to the Lodging House and get some of the other boys. _Safety in numbers and all that jazz._

Switch stuck his hands in his pockets and began to head back across town. His eyes were ever observing as he went. At any sight of an approaching thug Switch would have the opportunity to run ahead. He continued to walk briskly forward, watching all the while but not meeting the eye of any of the people passing by.

It was when he was avoiding the gaze of an officer on his morning beat that he saw the couple sleeping the alleyway. He took a step closer and recognized the profile of the girl. Half hidden by the shadow he saw her, her face resting against the man's shoulder. It was Stress, yes. But the man was not Jack. He had darker hair and was a few inches taller than the Cowboy; the ever-present bandana that was his trademark was absent. Stress was holding onto a man. And it was not Jack.

Switch took a hesitant step forward careful not to wake the pair. He looked down upon the man and squinted. From his first glance, it had not registered that he had seen the man before. Now, though, at such close a range, Switch could remember. _Rafe_. The new kid. He had done it. He had gone down to the Lodging House and then had gotten his hands on Jack's girl. This wasn't good.

He stumbled back away from the alley and hurried away so that there was a block separating him from them. He kicked the dirt in frustration. "I told you to leave her alone," he mumbled harshly under his breath. The boys needed Jack to help them in the fight against the _Wraiths_. They couldn't afford to let the leader take out a personal vendetta against a new kid who had expensive taste.

He knew what he had to do, though. He had to go get Jack. Maybe if he heard about it before he saw it for himself he would handle the news better. _Yeah, right_, he snorted to himself. But that didn't stop him from breaking into a run and heading back towards Duane Street.

Switch entered the doors of the Lodging House lobby and quickly looked about. He hadn't heard the circulation bell ring yet; hopefully he had made it back to the House before Kloppman woke all the boys up for their selling. Luckily, when he entered, Kloppman was still sitting at his desk, hunched over and looking at papers. He rushed forward and placed his hands on the edge of the desk. "Kloppman, where are all the guys?"

The old man looked up from his work and smiled sadly. "Morning, Switch. Didn't I just see you head out?"

Switch shook his head impatiently. "Where is everyone? Did you wake them up yet?"

"Not yet. I was just about to go up there and get them going."

The boy didn't even stop to say "thanks". Switch tore up the steps and approached the bunks, heading towards one in particular. Surprisingly, the boys – most of which who were plotting an hour ago when he had left the bunkroom, were all asleep. But the one bunk he was looking for was empty; Jack was not there.

Without slowing his pace, Switch headed back down the steps. He met Kloppman halfway down the flight. "Have you seen Cowboy at all?" he asked, almost out of breath.

Kloppman paused on the step. "Calm down, boy. Jack just entered the Lodging House," he answered before jerking his thumb behind him. Switch ran past him, allowing the old man to continue on his ascent.

"Jack? Jack? Where are you?"

Jack laughed hollowly, his heavy-lidded eyes an indication that he was only just making it back to the Lodging House. "Right here, kid."

Switch stopped and stared. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Let's just say that I didn't get much sleep last night."


	8. VIII ENTER CONFLICT

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**VIII. ENTER CONFLICT  
**_The Demons in my Dreams…_

The early morning breeze sent a stray curl or two whirling around her dusty face. She snuggled closer to her source of heat before sleepily trying to stay her hair. But she couldn't – something was holding her arms down.

The realization hit her and her eyes reluctantly opened. No longer lost in the vestiges of sleep, Stress woke up and glanced around. She looked downwards and saw that she had been sleeping outside, back up against an old brick building. She wasn't alone, though. The young man sleeping beside her had wrapped his arms protectively around her.

_There is a slight problem with this,_ she thought, quite logically given her situation. _He's not Jack._

Stress gently slid out from his embrace and scooted away as if, by distancing herself from him, it erased what had happened.

_But what _had _happened? _She remembered Hope, she remembered being furious, she remembered Irving Hall. She remembered being hurt at Jack's attitude and at his inability to come after her. This boy, this Rafe, he had come instead.

A good three feet away from him, Stress watched as Rafe, in his sleep, felt around. The sudden absence of her body next to his alerted him to the morning chill and he began to wake up. He stretched his arms out and yawned before fully opening his hazel eyes. She noticed that, once they were open, his eyes darted about as if he was trying to get hold of where he was. When his gaze fell on Stress, he grinned sheepishly; he was obviously somewhat confused. "Good morning?" It was more of a question than a greeting.

She ignored him. She didn't know how they ended up falling asleep outside together and she didn't care. Her only thought was that she had to get away from him. Rafe was dangerous.

--

Rafe followed closely behind her but took care to make sure that the distance was enough that she didn't get unnerved by his presence. From the way she kept her head straight, refusing to even look sideways at him, he knew she was upset with him. She hadn't said a word to him back in the alley. She had just stood up and began to head to the Duane Street Lodging House. He figured her destination out quickly; where else would she go? Besides, as she walked, all she did was mumble about "the damn Cowboy".

_But why is she mad at me?_ He hadn't been anything less than respectable toward her the night before. He had comforted her that was all. So what if they had fallen asleep outside together? They were safe and sound, weren't they? And he hadn't even tried to steal her necklace.

As he walked behind her Rafe let his mind wander back to the way the silver chain had glinted under the moonlight. It would have been so easy for him to remove it and slip it into his pocket without her ever knowing. And he hadn't done it.

In the back of his mind he had an idea as to why he had left her jewelry alone – but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself just yet. After all, he had only just met the girl the day before. Was it possible that, in such a short time, he had grown attached to her?

_In a way, it does make sense_, he thought. She had been the first girl in a long time that he had even spoken to; she was the first girl he had ever embraced, even if he had only been consoling her at the time. _I wonder…_

Rafe was so busy working through his own confused thoughts that he didn't notice it when Stress had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He bumped right into her.

The contact brought him back down and he jumped back, throwing his arms up in a defensive position. A tiny smile crossed her face when she caught sight of his stance. She was amused.

Fighting an embarrassed blush that came at his being caught off guard – _Another first_ – he ran his hand through his black hair and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

She waved her hand to dismiss his apologies. "It's me that should be sorry," she answered. _Her voice is hoarse_, he noticed and he remembered her shouts and sobs from the night before. "I really should have thanked you sooner but, back in the alley, I just didn't know what to say…" She let the end of her sentence trail off before she shrugged. "So, uh, thanks, I guess." He could see that she was not used to showing her gratitude – it seemed painful for her to say the word "thanks".

She turned around again and began to walk away slowly. Rafe, surprising himself, found that he did not want their brief conversation to end. "Hey, Stress," he called out. She turned around, stiffly. "What did you thank me for?"

She smiled – it was a genuine smile though sadness still touched it – and Rafe was floored by the difference it made in her appearance. He found he also liked to see her smile.

Rafe was finding many things that morning.

Stress smiled. "I wanted to go out and find those damn _Wraiths_ last night and, if you hadn't have come after me, I wouldn't have stopped until I did. Jack tells me I'm too impulsive sometimes…" Her voice just faltered before her smile slipped off of her face. She stuck her hands in her pants pockets, nodded once, and turned around. She resumed a quickened pace as she moved forward. This time Rafe did not call out to her.

_Jack_. Rafe had forgotten all about him. Just what would Cowboy do when he found out about what had happened between him and Stress the night before? He didn't know but, as they were only a few blocks away from the Lodging House, he knew he would find out very soon.

--

Switch saw the lines deeply etched beneath Jack's eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. The older boy looked like he had been struck by a cart on his way back from Irving Hall the night before. His brown eyes were glazed, his hair was a mess and he was walking very stiffly, almost as if he had spent the entire night sitting on a porch. Which, of course, he had – but Switch had no way of knowing that.

_He must have been up worrying about the _Wraiths, Switch thought. _Should I really add this to all of his worries?_

Jack rubbed his eyes with his hands and pushed his greasy brown hair out of his face. "Look, kid, is this important? Cause I'd like to get some shut-eye before I go out with the papes."

Switch thought it over for a moment. Maybe it would be better if he told Jack now when he was too tired to do anything stupid about the situation. Besides, if Jack found out that he knew about Stress and Rafe and _didn't_ tell him about it – well, sleeping back out on the streets would start to look pretty good then. He took a deep breath. He was too young for this type of pressure. "Hey, Cowboy, how well do you know that Rafe kid?"

Jack's sleepy eyes became a little more alert. He half-closed one and narrowed its twin on Switch's nervous face. "Why?"

The younger boy swallowed. He longed for a cigarette but knew he wouldn't be able to satisfy his urge until Jack heard what he had come to tell him. He mentally kicked himself for getting involved. Next time he would keep walking. "Well, you see, I kinda ran into him sleeping in the alley down by Medda's this morning…"

Jack knew there had to be more to Switch's story than that. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. "And?"

Switch removed his dusty beige newsboy cap and scratched his head. "The thing is, Cowboy, he wasn't alone. There was a girl with him." He jammed his hat back onto his head and took a step back. He wasn't sure what Jack's response would be.

His stomach seemed to flip and he was glad he hadn't had time to find any breakfast that morning. "It was Stress, wasn't it?" He really didn't need to ask but he knew he wouldn't be able to accept what Switch was saying unless he got it clarified.

Switch's curt nod was all he needed.

Sudden anger flooded through him. _I knew it – from the moment I set my eyes on that kid, I knew it. And I let him go after her last night. God damn it, I am an idiot._ Jack was wide awake now. He turned around and began to head out of the door he had only just entered.

Switch knew that he should have been expecting this. "Hey, Jack? Where are you going?" he called out, momentarily stunned at the way that the older boy had stalked off.

"I'm gonna find that Rafe and take care of him," was the heated reply. Switch hurriedly ran after Jack. He wouldn't miss this for the world. Stuff like this did not happen every day; he'd have enough information to trade with the other fellas to keep himself stocked up on cigarettes for at least a week.

Anger fueled Jack's every step as he moved away from the Lodging House toward the direction of Irving Hall. He was angry at the new kid for making a play at his girl even after being warned multiple times. He was angry at Stress for turning to Rafe last night instead of listening to what he had to say. He was angry at himself for driving her into the arms of another guy.

And he was angry at the _Wraiths_. If it wasn't for the street gang's increased activity in Manhattan during the last few weeks – including the four attacks this past week alone – then Jack's mind wouldn't have been so distracted lately. They were entirely at fault for Hope's death; the loss of one of her closest friends was enough to widen the gap that had separated Stress from him. And, if there wasn't a gap, Rafe wouldn't have been able to fill it with himself.

Jack was so angry that he almost, for the second time, walked right past Stress and Rafe. He would have, too, if not for Switch. The younger boy had caught up to Jack and, while panting, pointed out the pair one block over. "Hey, Cowboy, there they are."

He saw them approaching before they spied him. The morning rush was about and it was fairly easy to be missed amongst the crowd. Jack nodded his thanks to Switch before jogging over to the two of them. Stress, a few feet in front of Rafe, saw Jack first. She grinned happily at him and stopped. "Jack."

But he ignored her and continued to jog right past her. He didn't stop until he had reached Rafe.

Rafe smiled uneasily at the year younger boy. He could almost feel the anger that radiated off of him. "Morning, Cowb—"

His greeting was cut off when Jack pulled back and swung right at his face. His right hook landed at the corner of Rafe's mouth. Rafe's head followed the punch and remained turned to the side after Jack withdrew his fist.

"Cowboy, no!" Stress watched in horror as Jack moved to hit Rafe a second time. She ran forward and grabbed his arm, holding on tight. "It's not what you think."

Jack stopped the second swing and allowed Stress to hang onto him. He turned to look at her and there was betrayal in his brown eyes. "Oh really, Stress? Then just what is it?"

She was stumped for a second and Jack took the opportunity to try to shake her off of his arm. She didn't loosen her grasp. "Just stop it, Jack, and let me explain," she pleaded, her voice cracking.

He looked at her; there were tears welling in her green eyes. He nodded.

Rafe took the moment to slowly move his head forward. He had been anticipating several blows to follow the first but was glad that Jack was listening to Stress. He wiped the corner of his mouth and stopped to look at the dribble of blood that had transferred to his hand. "Well, I guess I did deserve that."


	9. IX EXIT DICE

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**IX. EXIT DICE  
**_If you become a nobody  
blind to your family_

Stress was extremely glad that she hadn't let go of Jack's arm. As soon as Rafe's off-handed comment reached him, his face turned red and he began to swing again.

"Jack, stop it," she yelled and used every bit of strength she had to pull on his arm. "I said to stop!"

The momentum of the swing couldn't be stopped. His arm followed through and Rafe, who was prepared this time, side-stepped the intended hit. Jack missed his target entirely but, due to the force he had put behind his punch, caused Stress to be thrown. She stumbled for a few steps before she fell forward; she let go of Jack's arm and placed her hands before herself in order to break her fall.

The three boys did nothing as she fell until she landed; it was almost as if their feet were frozen to the ground. Her hands hit the ground first and she pushed. As a result, the full impact of the fall was to her shoulder; after she pushed against the ground, she landed sideways. "Damn," she swore, laying on the dirt road for a moment before trying to lift herself off.

Rafe was the first one to move. He rushed to her side and tried to help her up but was stopped by Jack. Jack nearly shoved Rafe away before he pulled Stress to her feet. "Are you alright, Stress?"

Once she was standing, she smacked Jack's arm and walked a few steps away from him, rubbing her sore right shoulder as she did. When Jack, reluctantly, dropped his hold on her, she rolled up the sleeve of her blouse. She wasn't bleeding but there were a series of long red scratches running down the back of her arm. "I would have been," she said, wincing as she ran a dirty finger down one of the scratches, "if you wouldn't have thrown me down to the ground, Cowboy."

Jack had the decency to look ashamed. "It wasn't my fault, Stress. If Rafe…" he stopped and paused to glare at the boy that was standing behind him. He seemed to have remembered why exactly he was hitting Rafe in the first place. "What the hell were you doing with my girl, kid?"

Stress made a noise that indicated that it probably wasn't that best time to bring that up again. Jack conveniently chose to ignore her. "Well?"

Rafe shrugged. "Definitely not what you're thinking there, Cowboy."

Stress turned around and, placing one hand on her hip – she kept her hurt arm down by her side – looked suspiciously at Jack. "Say, Cowboy, what were you thinking that I would do with the new kid?"

Rafe tried to ignore the fact that she wouldn't even mention him by name; instead, he looked at Jack. He was growing all the more flustered. He obviously wanted to swing at Rafe again but knew that with Stress getting this upset with him that he wouldn't dare try. Not with her around, at least. He made a note to himself to make sure that he never went near Jack Kelly again if Stress wasn't around until everything was explained. He wouldn't admit it out loud but Jack's punch smarted.

Jack ran his hand through his hair and looked around helplessly. Switch busied himself with lighting a cigarette of his never-ending supply, pointedly not meeting the older boy's gaze. "Nothing, alright, Stress. Nothing. I didn't mean nothing."

She nodded, knowing that this was the closest she was going to get to an apology in front of a crowd. She walked back towards him and offered him her hurt arm. With somewhat of a smirk in Rafe's direction, he took it. "Come on, Jack. Let's get back to Bottle Alley. I want to say goodbye to Hope," she said, letting him guide her down the street.

Switch, the casual observe making sure to remember everything that just occurred, hurried on ahead. Rafe stuck his hands in his pockets and followed right behind, hoping to hear Stress telling Jack about the night before. The quicker Jack knew the truth about what happened, the safer Rafe would feel. He really didn't want to get hit again at such a disadvantage.

"Rafe? That you boss?" With the mention of Rafe's name, all four of them stopped and turned around.

Rafe heard the voice coming from behind and recognized it almost at once. _Rhys_. One of his boys had caught up with him. _Dice, when I get back to my crate, I'm gonna kill you, _he vowed before slowly turning around. He felt the heat of the stares coming from Stress, Switch and Jack, and promptly ignored them. He saw the tall, lean boy, with his brown hair slicked back, and took a few steps toward him. Before he walked away, he patted Stress' good shoulder once. He ignored Jack's jealous glare at his touch and, instead, smiled at the boy that stood a few yard behind him. "Rhys? How are ya?"

--

Loki's steely grey eyes seemed to bore into Gus' dark brown ones but the dark boy didn't flinch. "Did you hear me, Wares? Where the hell did you get that blade?" he asked, repeating his question. Behind him, he clenched his fists and bobbed on his heels, preparing himself for a decent sprint. If the younger boy made to use his knife, Gus would be ready. He could only hope that the other _Wraiths_ would be there to back him up. As it was, none of the other boys seemed to understand the severity of the situation. _Well_, he thought offhandedly, trying not to break eye contact with Loki, _none but Dice and Rhys. I just hope he gets Rafe before something happens_.

It was the younger boy that broke contact first. He pointedly turned away from Gus' accusing stare before tossing a remark back. "My name ain't Wares."

The words went unnoticed for, when Loki turned away, Dice took the opportunity to try to take his knife away. In an action that would seem much braver than he would ever be capable of, Dice leapt towards Loki, aiming to wrap his wiry arms around the younger boy.

But Loki seemed to be expecting one of the boys to do just that. Just before Dice could reach him and knock the knife from his hand, Loki spun around. He pushed his knife outward; Dice, unable to stop himself, landed right on top of the steel.

A wicked grin crossed the blond boy's face. Still holding tightly to the ornate handle of his knife, Loki pulled it. But, instead of pulling it straight out, he curved it. It was his aim to destroy as many internal organs as possible. He could not allow Dice to live. And, of course, he wouldn't. Dice was dead almost before the knife was fully drawn from his abdomen.

Predictably, Dice dropped immediately. The attack on their leader seemed to bring about a reaction from many of the cautious boys. Loki reveled in the mutterings he heard but none of them seemed to move yet. They were not very bright during situations that they were not prepared for; most of them were taught how to steal without being caught – there was no need for intellect.

Gus, however, waited until Loki seemingly bent down over Dice's body. Before he even had the opportunity to check whether or not Dice had died, Gus tried his best to bring him down. He had the element of surprise on his side; Loki had not thought any of the _Wraiths_ daring enough to try to fight him when he had just illustrated how ruthless he was by killing Dice. But, just because he was not expecting it, did not mean that he was at as severe a disadvantage. Loki had a weapon drawn. Gus, as the other boys, had already packed their weapons away as part of Rafe's rules. There was supposed to be no need for a weapon inside the warehouse.

Though Gus had been able to knock Loki onto the ground with a forceful shove, Loki struck out at him as he fell. His aim was wild and he only struck Gus on the arm. The knife sliced straight across the dark flesh, tearing his grey shirt and bloodying it with the wound seconds later.

Gus rolled away from him, clutching his arm. The cut was deep, and at first, shock seemed to set in. He felt no pain though he knew he should have.

Loki landed onto the dirt floor hard and, momentarily, lost the grip on his knife. The sweat on his hand, coupled with the fresh blood, made the handle hard to hold onto. In the moment of hesitation when he tried to regain his grip, two of the larger boys rushed him. Chase tackled him, and the knife fell from his hand. Riff kicked the blade away before jumping on top of Chase. The weight of the two boys was enough to, finally, bring Loki down.

But not for long. It was not long after Doc, the only one of the _Wraiths_ who knew anything about injuries besides Rafe, confirmed that Dice really was dead and that Gus was cut real bad, that a new voice could be heard ringing through the warehouse.

"Well, well," came the voice, cutting through the tension as quick as Loki's actions had caused it. "What do we have here?"

From his position on the ground, holding his bleeding arm up against his chest, Gus could only hope that Rhys had returned with Rafe. Gasping slightly at the pain that was now overpowering his shock, he used the little strength he had to look over at Loki's face. After all of his grandstanding, the boss was back to take care of him. But, if that was true, Loki wore the wrong expression entirely. The young boy, pinned under the combined weight of Chase and Riff, smiled as wide as his present position allowed. "Damn," he said, wheezing slightly from the force of his fall, "took you guys long enough."

The newcomer stepped inside the warehouse, followed closely behind by three large boys. The last of them, Jax, closed the door behind him before lowering his head. It was at that moment that Gus realized that, shortly after Loki came in for the night, and right before Rhys left to get Rafe, Jax – one of the boys – had slipped out. He was almost sure of it; he hadn't been there when Gus and Dice covered for Rhys so that he could leave.

He almost smacked himself for his ignorance. Not for the first time, he had just jumped into a situation without thinking about it. If he would have just paid more attention he would have realized that Jax was missing. The red-headed boy had not been at his normal post; he was always standing just to Rhys' right side – the pair of them was as close as Quick and Rafe had been. In a business as ruthless as thieving could be, that was saying something. But, when Gus interrupted Loki in order to give Rhys the opportunity to leave, Jax was already gone. He was sure of it. And, if Jax escaped, why did Rhys remain? _Was it possible that the two of them were in on it together?_ The idea was enough to cause his heart rate to quicken and the blood began to flow more freely.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Gus lowered his gaze, content on trying to slow his bleeding. He couldn't face whoever the newcomer was and he didn't want to know who exactly it was that led the three other boys into the warehouse. As it was, this person alone had the ability to make Loki smile even as he was being held down for murdering the leader of the _Wraiths. _And a person like that was one Gus did not want to meet. The newcomer's next words did nothing to make Gus feel any better:

"Lock the doors behind us, boys. We got some matters to discuss with these bums before we turn in."

--

"Now, if I was Rafe, where would I go?" Rhys asked himself for what could well be the hundredth time since he left the warehouse the night before. He nearly smacked himself in his head for his repetition. "Stupid," he berated himself, annoyed that his search was taken so long. He had almost expected to find Rafe mere moments after leaving the warehouse. "If you knew where Rafe would go, you'd have find him by no—"

His words were cut off when he spied a familiar form in front of him. After spending the night searching through the neighboring boroughs for Rafe, Rhys almost couldn't believe his eyes when he stumbled upon him. But there he was, the dark-haired boss that he had known ever since Quick died. He wasn't alone, though. He was walking behind a pair, a young man helping his female friend walk down the street, while a kid seemingly led the way.

Rhys leaned up against the window of a nearby shop. He smoothed his hair back so that it was out of his green eyes and called out to Rafe. He was too eager to tell Rafe all about the supposed mutiny within the _Wraiths_ to wonder why he was tagging along with a bunch of newsies.

"Rafe? That you boss?"


	10. X ENTER SMYTH

Disclaimer: _The character Rafe Edwards is the creative property of me, as is Stress, Dice, Switch and various other characters. The character Jack Kelly (among others) is the property of Disney. The words following each chapter heading are from the Bryan McFadden song, "Demons in my Dreams" and are used in order to help create the context in which the plot was conceived._

--

**DEMONS IN MY DREAMS**

_Have you ever been lost in a different world? _  
_  
_Rafe Edwards is a leader eager to try his luck out at going straight.  
What happens when his gang wasn't what he thought it was?  
Or his newfound loyalties are questionable?

--

**X. ENTER SMYTH  
**_Who would you be?_

The stranger walked right over to where Loki remained, felled under the combined weight of Chase and Riff. With two of his own – much larger – boys behind him, he pointed downward. "Let him up," he ordered.

When neither of the two _Wraiths _that were keeping Loki down moved, the stranger, whose bowler hat was slung down low in order to hide his identity, snapped his fingers. The two boys – not including Jax, who was still standing next to the door, his hands folded behind his back, trying his damndest not to make eye contact with the boys he had betrayed – reached forward and each one removed a body from off of Loki. The bigger of the two dragged Riff to his feet; the one with the glasses grabbed Chase's arm and tossed him, almost easily, to the side. The stranger extended his hand to Loki, helping him to his feet.

Once Loki was standing, to everyone's surprise – well, maybe not Gus; by now, he seemed to have the measure of the situation and was praying that Rhys would find Rafe soon – the stranger embraced Loki, a quick hug that lasted a few seconds. When they pulled apart, Loki adopted a more submissive tone, sounding like a puppy eager to please his master. "Did I do good?"

The stranger removed his dark felt hat and brushed his shaggy dark blonde hair back out of his eyes. "You did good, brother," he replied, smiling. But it wasn't a gentle smile; it was a wicked smile that went past Loki. He was directing it to the _Wraiths_.

From his place on the floor, still holding his wounded arm, Gus recognized the stranger at once. He had only seen the boy once, in passing, when another of the _Wraiths_ had pointed him out but he had never forgotten the cunning twist of his face. Even if he didn't know who the boy was, he would have known he was someone that shouldn't be messed with. But, because he knew exactly who he was seeing, Gus felt even sicker.

_Smyth_. The leader of the Marks was in the _Wraiths _warehouse. And, even further, he was the _brother _of Loki?

Even Rafe couldn't do anything about this now. They had been infiltrated. The _Wraiths _had been breeched and long before Rafe disappeared that afternoon, leaving them open to an invasion. After all, how long had Loki been a _Wraith_? Not long. He had been Smyth's brother for a lot longer. _Oh, shit._

Loki then stepped back so that he was mimicking Jax's stance behind Smyth. The other two boys were standing next to the Mark's boss, appearing to be threatening. But they were not as threatening as Smyth himself. The boy just exuded danger. "Listen up," he said, and the mumblings that erupted after Smyth acknowledged Loki as his brother died at once. All their attention was on the fair-haired stranger.

Smyth licked his lips once, enjoying the absolute silence that followed – well, not entirely absolute. Still in pain, Gus was wheezing slightly. He was ignored. Smyth, wearing leather boots bought with the money the Marks took in, clomped his way across the room. He lifted one of his feet and placed it atop the empty wooden crate. "I understand that the man who sits on this here crate runs things. Ain't that right?"

Though his words were phrased as a question, none of the boys answered. They knew that Smyth wasn't looking for an answer. He smiled. "Good. Well," he said, as he removed his foot and promptly sat down on the crate, his legs spread out comfortably, "I guess I'm the boss now."

--

Rhys smiled at the older boy and walked forward. When he was right next to Rafe, he clapped him on the back. "I've been looking for you all night, boss. Where have you been?"

Stress and Jack shared a look before glancing at Rafe. "Boss?" Jack asked, taking his arm back from Stress in order to cross them in front of his chest. Switch, on the other hand, paused a few steps away and, with his hands on his hips, stood and watched the scene unfold. He had a feeling this might gain him even higher leverage in his bartering later on.

Rafe was stuck, now, and he knew it. _Do I pretend that I have no idea who Rhys is just to have him spill the beans on me or do I embrace him as a _Wraith _and deal with Cowboy? _His hazel eyes darted from Rhys, who was looking immensely relieved to have found him, to Jack, who was looking like any suspicious thought he had regarding the boy was coming true. He could tell that Jack was just itching for another reason to hit him again. _And I'm sure that revealing to him that – _surprise – _I'm the head of the gang he hates will satisfy his need to strike._

His eyes slid from Jack's determined face to Stress' confused one. He couldn't do that to her. How would she take it if she found out that he was the leader of the gang that murdered her friend – even if he didn't have anything to do with that? _I don't think she'll see it my way_. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. Sighing, he made up his mind.

He turned to his side, where Rhys was waiting for him, that goofy grin of his plastered on his face. Lightly, he punched the boy in his shoulder. "Hey there, Rhys," he greeted and, before Rhys could reply, he continued talking. "'Boss' is a nickname that Rhys likes to use on me since I'm older. I used to sell newspapers with him over in the Bowery," he lied, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for Rhys' appearance. Rafe turned to look the boy in his eye. "Ain't that right, Rhys?"

Now, if there was one thing that you learned as a _Wraith_, it was that you listen to the boss. His word is law – you agreed with him no matter what. So, while he was confused at the lies that Rafe was telling these newsies, Rhys shrugged. "Yeah. Long time, no see, eh, Bo—er, Rafe?" It felt strange to address the gang leader by his name purposely; he hadn't been only 'Rafe' – and not 'Boss' – since Quick died, leaving him in charge of the boys. He could see Rafe relax slightly; the older boy had thought that _maybe _Rhys would not have caught on. But Rhys knew better – you weren't supposed to talk about the _Wraiths _around anyone who wasn't part of the gang. Him and his pal, Jax, had gotten into more than one scrap with boys who were Marks that overheard them talking about _Wraiths _business. You could never tell if a kid was a Mark until he attacked; Marks fought dirty, too.

Thinking about the Marks reminded Rhys exactly what he was doing, looking for Rafe out on the streets. He made to tell Rafe about Loki's betrayal but stopped. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, he caught sight of Rafe, slowly shaking his head. The motion was so slight, he was glad he caught it. The other three people present, luckily, did not. Rhys shut his mouth.

Rafe turned back to his companions. He was rattled at Rhys' sudden appearance but knew better than to show it. He smiled smoothly. "It's been quite some time that I've seen my pal. I'd like to hear a bit about what I've been missing since I've been gone," he added, sliding his eyes over to Rhys.

Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Come on," he said to Stress. "Let's go head over to Bottle Alley. It's too late to sell the morning edition so we might as well help Mrs. Cook out with Hope before we go down to the _World _building. We'll sell the evening edition, instead."

She just nodded. It had been a long night and the day only promised to be longer.

Jack turned around and, replacing his hand on her arm, began to lead her down the street away from Rafe and his friend. Switch had already began heading back to Duane Street.

Rafe watched as they walked away. Part of him wanted to follow and make sure that things were settled between him and Jack; he didn't need to make any more enemies. But he remained beside Rhys – Rhys was more important at the moment.

A few paces away, Rafe saw Stress turn her head and cast a quick look over her shoulder. It was a fleeting glance and he wasn't even sure if he just imagined it because, as quickly as it happened, her face was straight. Then it was Jack Kelly's face that was looking back at him. "Hey, Rafe. We'll finish our discussion later at the Lodging House," he said. He narrowed his brown eyes at the older boy and smirked before turning back.

Rafe fought the urge to sigh. One whole day off the crate and he had made a new enemy, found a girl who he couldn't even hope to talk to and been found by one of his boys.

Unfortunately for him, the worst hadn't even come yet.

--

The air in the warehouse was tense but none of the _Wraiths_ dare spoke out against the new 'leader'. Smyth had not removed his seat from the crate; his lackeys, including the betrayer, Jax, stood behind him, ready to fight if any of the _Wraiths _tried anything. But they couldn't, of course. All their blades had been locked away for the night. The only ones with any type of weapon were the Mark's members. Though the Marks were outnumbered, almost 3 to 1, the boys didn't want to chance running afoul of s Mark knife. The stiffening body of their fallen leader, as well as the panting dark boy, told them as much.

It was then, about an half hour after his arrival, that Smyth seemed to notice Dice's dead body for the first time. He had been preoccupied proclaiming himself the new leader of the _Wraiths_, as well as whispering plans to his boys, that he hadn't spied the bloody mess in the middle of the floor. He snapped his fingers at his brother. "Loki? What's that?" he asked, pointing downward. Gus, who had backed away from Dice, and was being bandaged by Doc, tried not to retort at Smyth's choice of words. Dice was not a who, according to Smyth; he was a what.

Loki looked at the body. He had no doubt that the dead boy was what his brother was referring to. After Doc had confirmed hat Dice was really dead, none of the boys wanted to go near the corpse. There was a wide berth around him, and a thick crimson pool beneath him. He shrugged. "Dice," he answered casually, almost as if he hadn't been the one to murder him. "He was the idiot that Rafe put on the crate after he took off. Braver than I thought he was – he thought he could take me down. Didn't work, though."

Smyth lifted himself up off the crate and, reaching his hand out, smacked his brother on the back of his head. "You idiot," he said fiercely. For the first time since any of the boys had known him, Loki seemed fearful. "Didn't you remember my plan? You were supposed to get in, get Rafe out and let me know. Very simple. That's why I let you do it instead of Deuce. And what did you do? Killed one of Rafe's boys. Do you know how rough it was to be a Mark after I got rid of Quick? Now we're going to have to get rid of Rafe Edwards if we want to finish my plan," he continued. With each word, his face grew redder, his voice went lower and Loki looked more ashamed. "Damn it!" Smyth erupted and he smacked his brother again, harder this time. Loki flinched but didn't make a sound.

There was a quiet rumble of whispers that broke out between the _Wraiths. _Though Smyth was whispering by the end of his rant, he was still audible; the boys had heard that he was now planning to kill Rafe. Gus, with his good hand, crossed his fingers that Rhys found Rafe. If Rhys tipped him off, maybe he could save himself. And, if he was saved, maybe he could figure a way to save the boys.

Smyth heard the whispering and, as he sat back down on the crate, he glanced up. All whisperings ceased. He shook his head and pointed back to Dice's body. "Loki, you killed him. You get rid of him."

Loki nodded quickly. As the rest of the boys watched, Loki grabbed Dice's wrists and began to drag him across the room and out of the warehouse, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

One of Smyth's boys, the largest of them, was guarding the warehouse door. He unlocked it and let Loki out, still pulling on Dice's arms. Once the blonde boy disappeared out the entrance, he pulled the door shot and locked it again.

"Alright," Smyth began, speaking much louder this time. He was addressing all of the boys. "This little bit of bloodshed was unexpected. I'm going to have to think things over myself before I start telling you boys what's what. So, go to sleep," he said. Jax went around the room and blew out the candles that littered the room. "Trust me. You'll need your rest."


End file.
